


if you should fall

by Tidecaller



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Alternate Universe, Character Death, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:20:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23544550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tidecaller/pseuds/Tidecaller
Summary: John is scared, alone. And then he finds Jamie.
Relationships: Jamie Fraser & Lord John Grey, Jamie Fraser/Lord John Grey
Comments: 9
Kudos: 41





	if you should fall

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit off-canon, because I made Jamie and John's age difference smaller than it is (8 years). For the purposes of this story, it's half that (4 years), just a heads up.

John ran as fast as he could, trailing through the unfamiliar woods.

His left leg hurt badly, and he was almost certain he had sprained it. Still, he couldn’t stop.

Here, the forest was dark, and there was no sign of a road or other small trail. John felt his heart beat out of his chest; felt like every breath he took burned his lungs even more than before.

_ Breathe in. Breathe out,  _ he told himself.

Still, he kept running.

He cursed his short legs, his thin body. The men chasing him were at least twice his height, definitely more than twice his weight. He knew that if he didn’t find help or a place to hide, he’d be caught soon.

_ Breathe in. Breathe out. _

He could hear voices now; they were getting closer and John had to hold his palm against his mouth, or he would have cried out. He made the mistake of looking back and suddenly there was a big rock catching his foot, hidden under the yellow, fallen leaves.

He closed his eyes as he toppled down and felt the force of the fall empty his already struggling lungs.

_ Breathe in. Breathe out. _

His leg hurt so much; he couldn’t put any weight on it anymore. He tried once more to get back up and failed. His breath hitched as he tried to force himself to be quiet, slowly dragging himself towards the cavity of a nearby tree. It was big enough to fit him inside it and John brought his knees to his chest, hugging them tightly.

The men were somewhere out there, and he could hear their low, rough voices. Their words were foreign to John’s ears and he could discern no more than the language they spoke.

He shut his eyes tightly, willed his uncle or cousins to find him, someone to come save him; if he’d been armed, at least he’d have a chance. He hadn’t touched a sword since before he left London.

_ Breathe in. Breathe out. _

He took out his pocket watch, the one his father had given him for his twelfth birthday and gripped it tightly. He tried to focus on the rhythmic vibration, the cold metal around it. 

He missed his mother. He wanted to be home, where it was safe, and he could hide in a million place in his house.

He desperately wished Hal was here; his brother would jump in front of the men, slash them with his sword within moments. He’d come to find him then, pick him up and take him home.

Hal would chastise him; he shouldn’t have run anywhere where his relatives couldn’t find him, he’d say.

_ “But cousin Alec was pierced by an arrow, he was dead. And the two other guards hadn’t lasted either” _ he would explain to Hal. Hal would nod at that, understanding.

“There ye are, ye wee bastard” a cruel, pleased voice proclaimed from above him.

Hal wasn’t there to save him.

John was glad he wouldn’t see the tears in his eyes or hear the cry of terror in his voice as a tall, burly man ran him through with his dirk.

“Jamie, lad!” Murtagh shouted when he saw Jamie walk into the dining hall of Castle Leoch.

Jamie smiled at once at the sight of his godfather, who he hadn’t seen for a year now. He hurried to his side and the older man embraced him heartily as he laughed.

It was dinner time, so the hall was occupied by most of its inhabitants and servants, all of them too busy eating to pay attention to the two.

“When did ye arrive?” Jamie asked and took a seat next to Murtagh.

“Just before supper. I had heard ye were spending a year with the MacKenzies, so I thought I’d pass by to see ye” the older man told him. He explained that he wouldn’t be staying long and that he’d ride out for Inverness tomorrow morning.

Jamie had hoped he’d stay a bit longer, but he was still glad to see his godfather, even if it was briefly.

“Oh! I almost forgot” Murtagh exclaimed and brought his hand to his inner pockets, searching. After some effort, his face lit up and he produced a small leather pouch.

He handed it to Jamie.

“It’s just something for that birthday of yours I missed. Sixteen now, eh?” he told him, looking proud. “Tis not much, the man who sold it to me at the Aberdeen market didn’t even know how well-made it is” Murtagh cackled and motioned for him to open it.

Jamie, smiling lightly, unlaced the binding and carefully took out the contains. It was a pocket watch, he realized with surprise.

It was the smallest one he’d ever seen, but it looked intricately crafted and in good condition. He could feel the smoothness of the exterior, shiny and lean.

“Thank ye, truly” 

“Ah, it’s nothing. Make sure to take care of it and keep it close. You better make use of it, if nothing else” Murtagh clapped his shoulder tightly.

“Aye, I will” Jamie promised and placed it in his pocket. He’d keep it there and carry it with him always.

The next day, he bid his godfather goodbye and went on with his day of training and of his studies. His pocket watch remained in his pocket, and even when Jamie didn’t take it out to check the time, he’d sometimes hold it inside his pocket and smile; it was a thing made for gentlemen, lords after all.

He was sixteen already, and to be gifted such a thing, by the godfather he loved so much at that, made him feel like he’d truly grown.

A week later, Jamie found himself making the same journey Murtagh had, from Castle Leoch to Inverness.

It was two days ride, but the weather was holding up and the days were not quite chilly yet, so they might make it a bit faster than that. He’d be escorting his uncle Dougal and some others to restock on some supplies; nothing remotely adventurous or challenging, but Jamie was glad to spend a few days away from the castle.

He reveled at the feeling of pure freedom he felt as they rode on, as they camped out that night around a small fire, the others telling stories and jokes before they went to sleep under the stars.

The weather turned slightly colder by the time they reached Inverness, and light rain had been pouring since early in the morning. 

The streets were muddy around the market and Jamie tried to find what shelter he could while Dougal spoke with the town’s blacksmith. The others were out of sight, some of them visiting other shops and stalls, while most were probably at the tavern, drunk already.

He looked to his uncle, who was still deep in discussion with the blacksmith, now laughing loudly and slapping the other man’s arm.

Jamie sighed and walked away, slowly making his way to the tavern. He stopped here and there to look at the stalls as he walked, the rain on his clothes and hair no longer noticeable.

He passed a small, empty alleyway when his eyes caught on a strange sight.

It was a boy, sitting alone under the shelter of a doorframe. The steps on which he sat on were wet at the edges, but the boy had gathered his limbs around himself to evade the droplets and the cold. That particular sight wasn’t what had caught his attention, however.

The boy was dressed in a light blue coat, which looked warm and expensive; probably no resident of the town would be rich enough to afford such a garment. He wore leather riding boots and his brown hair was long and tightened back with a black, velvet ribbon.

Jamie couldn’t help but approach him, though the boy barely looked up at him when he stood before him.

“Are ye alright, lad? What are ye doing here?” he asked, with as much friendliness as he could. It was at Jamie’s question that the younger boy looked up at him in surprise, as if he had just noticed him.

“I-” he made to talk, then faltered. He looked around the alleyway, and Jamie wondered what he was looking for. “I thank you for your concern, though there is nothing to be done” the boy ended up saying.

_ And what’s that supposed to mean? _

Jamie was certain now from his accent; the boy was English. He looked to be four or five years younger than him, and he was small and scrawny. He also looked quite pale; Jamie was wondered if the boy had already gotten a cold.

“What’s yer name? Perhaps I can help you find whoever ye’re with here; it isna safe to be left alone” Jamie moved to hide from the rain next to the boy. “My name is James Fraser”

“I’m John”

Jamie raised a brow.

“Why did you approach me, if I may ask?” John asked after a short pause. He didn’t look especially alarmed at Jamie’s presence, so he must not be afraid of him. John looked curious more than anything else, actually.

“Well, ‘tis not common to see a wealthy English boy standing alone in the rain” he noted. “I thought you might need some help”

John smiled faintly.

“You cannot help me, I’m afraid. Too late for that” he told him and turned his gaze upwards.

The boy had spoken bitterly, but his tone was flat, almost bored. Jamie couldn’t understand what he meant, or what was the matter with him. He looked content to sit on the steps and watch the rain flow down from the sky.

“What do ye mean--” 

“Jamie!” the older boy turned around in time to see Dougal at the end of the alleyway, a hand over his head to avoid the rain. “What’re ye doing there standing alone in the rain for, lad? Come here!” his uncle shouted to him impatiently.

Jamie was about to mention John to him, but when he turned around to point to the boy, he was gone. Jamie’s eyes widened and he looked around wildly, trying to spot the boy he’d been talking to until now.

Where the devil had he run off to? And without Jamie hearing him, at that.

“Come on, boy. What are ye waiting for?” Dougal shouted one last time and took off. 

Jamie looked to the abandoned steps, noticing the dry part of the tiles made a curve of John’s body. He looked around one last time, shrugged and took off after his uncle.

The company returned to the Castle Leoch just in time for the celebration the clan held at the end of the autumn harvest. It was already nightfall when Jamie left his horse at the stables and went in search of food.

There was plenty to be found, as there were people. 

The dining hall was filled to the brim with people - not just from the castle, but also guests and visitors for the festivities - all laughing, drinking, eating. Jamie could hear music from the end of the hall, though he didn’t bother to look for the musicians playing. 

He sat at the nearest bench, inhaled everything edible within arm’s reach and filled a goblet with whisky. He soon found familiar faces to speak with and the night was spent peacefully enough.

By midnight, however, Jamie’s head had started to pound from exhaustion and alcohol; he’d barely slept on the journey back and his body was seeking rest. So, he bade his friends good night, ignored their jeers at his early departure and crawled his way towards his room.

In stark contrast to the hall, the rest of the castle was silent as a graveyard. The hallways lay empty and dark, and Jamie found himself rather enjoying the temporary loneliness. As he passed by the main stone balcony of the building, he stopped to admire the night sky; clear and starry now, after days of grey clouds and rain. The moon was not very bright, so the area surrounding the castle was pitch black where the torches ended.

That’s when he saw it.

Or rather,  _ him _ .

There was a small figure at front garden, sitting on the edge of the little fountain. Jamie could barely make out the shadow of a person, so it would be impossible to identify them. But the size of said shadow, the thin limbs and the way the figure was sitting eerily reminded him of John, the boy he’d spoken with at the market. 

_ John what _ , he wondered. Why hadn’t the boy given him his full name?

But then, when his eyes searched the figure out in the dark, he found nothing.

It could have been anyone, truly. There were half a dozen children living or working around the castle.

He walked the rest of the way to his room, his headache more painful than before, and quickly undressed before he tossed himself on his bed and tightly closed his eyes.

Two days later, Jamie forced his eyes closed once again. He breathed out through his nose, waited for a bit.

Then, as if on their own accord, his eyes opened again. He tossed around his bed and reached out to the bedside table, grabbing his pocket watch.

_ Three-Thirty _ , the watch indicated solemnly. 

Jamie almost groaned.

He laid back down, with the pocket watch now in his hand, feeling the rhythmic sound of the seconds ticking away to minutes, to hours. Perhaps that would help him clear his head, to put him to sleep.

Three minutes and twenty-six seconds later, he gave up.

Jamie stood up, put on his his kilt and grabbed the candle from the table. He carefully opened his door, which despite his efforts creaked awfully, and began his descent to the kitchen. After all this time trying to fall asleep he’d grown hungry, and he knew that would make it even harder to drift away. 

Perhaps some bread and cheese, and some ale would help. Make him drowsy.

Fortunately, he encountered no one on his way there and the large kitchen was dark and cold when he entered it.

He set his candle on the long counter and started looking for leftovers.

The single flame of the candlelight lit the room in long, deep shadows, making the stained glass of the kitchen door look as if it was aflame as well. Jamie paid it no mind as he gathered a plate full of anything he could find.

Finally satisfied, he closed the cupboards and turned to let the plate on the table, in search of something to drink next.

He stopped dead in his tracks, for his heart might have stopped as well, for a moment. 

He’d barely seen it, just with the corner of his eyes, but he was certain it had been there. There was a shadow of a man, the outline of a head and shoulders crystal clear against the fiery light on the glass.

Suddenly, the room was too dark and quiet, and the sound of the wind howling outside felt louder than before.

With terror rising within him, Jamie slowly and silently put his plate down, grabbing instead a long bread-cutting knife. He didn’t change the way he paced around, letting his footsteps remain calm and unassuming as he neared the door.

The kitchen door led to the back of the house, where there was the log house and a small storage. Jamie held his breath, sent a silent prayer, and pulled the door open all in one stride.

He lunged forwards, looking around in search of the man, but there was nothing. Jamie stood frozen for a minute, willing his eyes to become accustomed to the darkness around him.

_ He’d been sure. _

He’d seen someone, just a few seconds ago.

He started moving again, checking all the spaces where someone could have hidden, the knife tightly held in his hand. His knuckles were white by that point and he could hear the blood rush in his ears, dread filling his body with each passing second.

“James, was it?”

Jamie almost pissed himself.

He must have cried out, because John’s eyes turned worried. Then he noticed Jamie’s hold on the knife and took a careful step back.

Jamie let out a shuddering breath, his hand dropping and his hold on the bread-cutting knife loosening.

“I’ll not hurt ye” he reassured the boy. “I thought you were an intruder”

“I’m sorry” the familiar boy whispered and looked down.

“Dinna fash” Jamie had finally found his senses once more, and after one last look around to make sure no else was there, he motioned the boy to get back to the kitchen.

John nodded and solemnly walked by his side.

Jamie wondered how the boy was even there. He wasn’t a guest of the MacKenzies, or he’d have seen him, surely.

And why was the boy outside in the dead of night, anyway?

He kept his mouth shut and guided them back inside, then had the boy sit down on a chair and took a seat beside him.

“Now tell me, what are ye doing here? How are ye even in Castle Leoch?” Jamie asked asked soberly, his eyes intent on the younger boy.

“I followed you” John didn’t hesitate to speak this time.

Jamie’s brows furrowed. He reached for his long-discarded plate and dragged it to where both he and John could reach it. He took a piece of cold pork and nodded to the boy to follow.

Hesitantly, John reached out as well. His hand paused over a small piece of cheese, contemplating. Finally, he picked it up, and with widened eyes brought it to his eyes to inspect it.

He found the boy a bit strange, though he wasn’t about to mention it to him.

“Ye’ll have to explain yourself sooner or later. If not to me, then to the Laird” he spoke mildly, watching for the boy’s reaction.

There was no change in him that he could see, neither worry not relief.

John couldn’t truly be a threat; he knew that much. But everything pertaining to their meetings now made no sense. How had the boy even reached Castle Leoch?

They sat silently, eating Jamie’s dinner in peace. Jamie felt a strange sense of calm come over him at the boy’s presence. He had long forgotten about his sleeplessness but after everything, he’d been worn out.

“Ye could use some sleep, aye?” he asked the boy when they finished their shared meal.

John didn’t answer, looking neutral.

“Unless ye’re somehow already staying somewhere” he stood up “I’ll wake Mrs. Fitzgibbons to find you a place to sleep” he walked to the arch leading out of the kitchen and stopped.

John hadn’t moved from his chair.

“I’d rather not” the boy said politely and Jamie sighed.

_ What was the matter now? _

“Ye wish to sleep outside, in the cold?” 

John shook his head.

“I don’t want to be alone anymore” the boy decided and swiftly stood up.

Jamie wondered what might have happened to him. Where were his parents, or his caretaker? The boy wouldn’t voluntarily provide any information and Jamie realized that he had no reason to make him; not tonight at least.

John  _ would  _ be speaking with Colum tomorrow, and everything would be cleared up. Jamie would make sure of it.

“Come, then. If ye dinna want to disturb Mrs. Fitzgibbons from her sleep, then I suppose ye can sleep in my room for tonight, John” he conceded and stretched out his hand, waiting.

That brought a small smile to the boy, and Jamie felt a wave of relief to see it.

Truly, it was strange. John couldn’t be that young, yet there was something telling him to be cautious, to be careful with him.

John took his hand; it was freezing cold.

Jamie held it tightly, willing warmth to pass through him to the smaller hand, and together they went back to Jamie’s room.

“How old are ye?” he couldn’t help but ask while he watched John take off his coat. Without it, he looked even smaller; all lanky limbs and a slim waist.

“Twelve” the boy answered, with a certain confidence and surety.

It made Jamie chuckle a bit.

“Alright. On the bed now, come on” he told the boy once he’d discarded his riding boots.

Jamie settled the boy and made sure he had enough blankets, then got on as well. They fit well enough; they’d have no problems sleeping.

Jamie went to blow the candle, but remembering at the last moment, took out his pocket watch which he’d placed in his pocket when he’d first gotten up. 

At the sight of it, John’s eyes went huge. He’d been laying down, but now he quickly sat up on the bed and moved closer to Jamie.

“Is that—?”

“It’s just a pocket watch. My godfather gave it to me” Jamie brought it closer for John to inspect.

The boy watched the hands of the small clock move for a time, transfixed in its movements.

“I understand now” John smiled up at him, fully for the first time. He looked relieved and plopped down on the bed, contentment on his face.

“Understand what?” Jamie asked as he placed the watch beside him and blew the candle out.

But the younger boy was already covered in blankets, eyes closed and face serene when he turned around.

Jamie got comfortable. Somehow, the boy’s steady breathing and the presence at his side lulled him to sleep.

There was no reason to worry, he told himself.

When Jamie opened his eyes, it was with great difficulty.

It was barely dawn, though the morning sun was visible through his window, and Jamie closed his eyes momentarily, enjoying the warmth and ease he felt.

He turned on his other side, to wake the other boy up.

“John” he muttered sleepily, reaching his hand out—

Only to grasp air. His eyes slammed open.

He looked sharply around the room, searching; he was fully awake now. But John was nowhere to be found.

Jamie bolted from the bed, panic rising within him.

“John!” he called out, however only silence followed. He looked to the foot of the bed, where the younger boy had left his coat and boots, but they too were gone. How had he not woken him when he got up? 

Jamie never slept deeply, and any small noise could wake him; it was both a blessing and a curse. But now, he felt betrayed by his own body as well as John.

_ Where could he have run off to? _

Jamie forced his still sluggish mind to focus, and he hastily dressed. He was about to run off after him, when he paused, head turning to the bedside table.

The pocket watch was still there, although the lid was off, displaying the time. Jamie had been sure he’d closed it before he fell asleep.

He grabbed it and ran.

He searched the entire castle that morning, stopping anyone he came across to ask if they’d seen a boy with long brown hair, but got nothing. There was no way that boy was nimble enough to sneak out the castle without anyone seeing him, they’d be people up and about shortly after they had gone to sleep.

“What’s this about a boy?” Mrs. Fitzgibbons wondered when she saw him, near noon.

“I-- Never mind that. It’s nothing” Jamie answered and ran away.

He’d have to tell Dougal, or Colum at least. There had been an intruder, whether it was a friendly one or not. Jamie made for the Laird’s office, but halfway through there, he stopped.

Only Jamie had seen John, and while that wasn’t worrying, it had been at night, while he was rummaging through the kitchen. Would they believe him? That a wealthy, English boy had somehow made his way into the castle, with no one seeing him but Jamie? He doubted it. They’d say he dreamed it, wouldn’t they?

Jamie breathed out heavily in frustration. He couldn’t tell Colum, not until he had John to present to him.

For the next couple of days, Jamie stayed on his guard at all times. He felt tense and rigid, but he couldn’t keep his mind off John.

He’d stop every time he noticed a shadow he couldn’t discern; he’d look twice at the boys’ face as they passed by him, searching for the kind, sorrowful, brown eyes.

But it was never John.

Now, Jamie had gradually began to settle down, his nerves softening.

He was out hunting for rabbits, in the thick wood around the castle. Jamie had already caught two of them, and had stopped to rest for a moment, drink some water from a small creek.

He brought his palms together, gathered some water and brought it to his faces, hands sweeping away at the sweat and dirt. The water was freezing, but it felt refreshing on his face.

He opened his eyes again, eyelashes heavy with water droplets.

“God almighty!” Jamie stood up immediately, body tensing. If he’d moved one more step, he’d have fallen in the creek.

John stood on the opposite side of it and jumped over, slowly approaching him; his face even paler than he remembered.

He looked only mildly sorry for scaring him half to death a second time.

How soundless was he?

“Why did ye run away that night? I promised ye’d be safe wi’ me” Jamie scoffed, resettling the rifle on his back. He bent down to pick up the rabbits and started walking, heading back to the castle.

The boy followed.

“I believed you” 

“Then why?” he asked, anger coloring his voice.

“I didn’t want to get you into trouble” John said simply with a shrug. “Did you tell them about me?” he asked more hesitantly.

“No, I couldna without you there. Apparently, ye’re excellent at sneaking off” Jamie shot back, but his irritation was already dissipating. He even gave the boy a smile.

John looked around the wood, eyes wary.

“I have no wish to trouble you” the boy told him, pausing uncertainly. “James” he added after some thought.

“Ye can call me Jamie” Jamie walked closer to him. “But ye have to give me yer own name. It’s only fair”

The boy blinked, surprised.

“John William Grey” John let on with a short bow. He must have thought he’d already introduced himself, Jamie thought.

“Ye have to tell me why ye keep coming back to me” Jamie told him. He couldn’t imagine how the boy had found him this time, and if he’d followed him from Castle Leoch, then Jamie wasn’t as good a hunter as he thought.

“There’s no one else to go to” John looked him in the eyes as he spoke, and Jamie thought he saw them glisten. “You have my pocket watch, after all”

_ His _ pocket watch? That made no sense. But he couldn’t resist taking out said watch, watching John’s intent eyes on it.

“Why do ye say it’s yours?”

At that, John drew near, his small hand closing over Jamie’s hold on the metal trinket.

“You see the inscription? It has my name on it” John’s finger pointed to the bottom, where tiny, fine letters curved around the edge.

Jamie had seen it before, but he could not recall what was written on it. He’d brushed it off as the maker’s signature. Now, he looked carefully at the letters.

_ For Lord John William Grey of Pardloe _ , it read.

Jamie looked up with shock, and for one terrible moment, he thought he’d find John gone again.

But the boy faced him calmly, his chestnut eyes boring into him.

“If you want it back, you only had to ask for it” Jamie said carefully. He didn’t know why, but he believed the boy to be who he said. There was only honesty written on his young face.

But how had John known Jamie had his watch? That day in Inverness, he hadn’t taken it out of his pocket at all. Still, the younger boy had followed him all the way out to the MacKenzie land.

And he was a lord, if the inscription was to be believed. It made sense that he’d be from his appearance and the way he spoke, but nothing else did.

“I don't need it anymore” John shrugged again; eyes suddenly sad.

“Why?” Jamie was sick of it. He wanted to shake the other boy’s shoulder, to make him talk. He had to explain himself, because this was getting out of hand.

“You truly haven't realized?” the boy wondered. He took a step back from him, his hands hugging his arms.

Why was John—

And then Jamie registered his words.  _ You truly haven't realized? _

Jamie thought back to every encounter he’d had with the boy. That day in the alleyway, how muted and unconcerned the boy had looked, sitting alone on those steps. How surprised he’d been at Jamie’s approach. How Dougal hadn’t seen the boy run away, even though he had been facing Jamie and him at the time.

John came to him after that. He’d always see him when he was alone.

_ I don't need it anymore. _

_ You truly haven't realized? _

He heard the words ring out in his head, loud and deadly.

With sudden clarity, he knew. He finally understood.

John William Grey didn't need his pocket watch anymore, because he was dead.

**Author's Note:**

> This au has been stuck in my head for days, so I had to write it at some point.Thanks for reading!


End file.
